


A Gift of Pie

by Dark_rune



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pie, Pre-Relationship, cas makes a friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:28:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29190816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_rune/pseuds/Dark_rune
Summary: Castiel is confused by a gift Dean gives him.  He sets out to return the gift by learning to make a pie.  Fortunately he finds help.  Just a whole lot of fluff.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 8
Kudos: 47





	A Gift of Pie

Before coming to Earth Castiel had thought he understood humanity. He’d watched them for millennia he was sure he had figured them out. Since he’d begun walking among them he realized how little he actually understood. Almost everything seemed simple, but only turned out to be far more complex. Gifts. He thought he understood gifts. Gifts were given and received on special occasions. Simple. But if that was the case, why did Dean just give him a leather cord with a pair of intricately carved stone wings? There were no gift giving holidays occurring. There were no special occasions. This made no sense. 

“You don’t like it?” Dean asked quietly.

“No,” Castiel said. “I do like it.” He did like it. It just made no sense. “I’m confused. Why?”

“Because I wanted to.”

“But I don’t have anything for you.”

Dean clapped a hand down on his shoulder as he walked away. “Not the point.”

The necklace continued to confuse Castiel. He felt that if he just had a better understanding everything would make sense. He puzzled it through the night and decided to approach Sam about it. Perhaps the younger Winchester could provide some clarification.

“Sam, I need some help.”

Sam set his coffee down. “Sure, what’s up?”

“This.” Castiel held out the necklace. “This is what is up.”

Sam glanced at the necklace and blinked. He looked at Castiel expectantly. “It’s a necklace? I’m not sure what the problem is.”

“I don’t understand it. Why did he give me this?”

“Oh, this is what Dean bought. You should probably ask him.”

“I did. He told me he bought it because he ‘wanted to’.”

“That’s why he did it then,” Sam said.

“There’s no special occasion. No reason for him to give me a gift.”

“Except that he wanted to. Not every gift has to have a special occasion around it. Sometime you just give someone you care about a gift. No strings attached.”

“It’s a necklace Sam. There’s already a string attached.”

Sam sighed. “I meant that sometimes you give a gift without expecting anything for no reason other than you wanted to. You saw something that reminded you of someone and you got it for them. Just to make someone happy.”

“I should give him something.”

“Um, I don’t think that’s the point,” Sam cautioned. “He didn’t want anything in return.”

“Not to pay him back for this,” Castiel said. “Because I want to.”

“Alright, what do you want to get him?”

“I don’t know. What do you suggest?”

“It’s best if you decide,” Sam said. “Otherwise it’d be more from me than you. He’s not a materialistic guy though. Prefers actions over baubles. You could make him something though.”

“Thank you. I’ll have to think about this.” 

The angel mulled the problem over for a few days. He would watch Dean when he thought he wasn’t going to be caught. Most of the time Dean did catch him. Usually he just gave Castiel odd looks. Sam mostly laughed quietly to himself. 

It was a sulking Dean that gave him the idea. The man was in a funk because it was raining too hard to go out for another grocery run. He wasn’t sulking for the lack of groceries. Dean was sulking because he’d dropped one of the bags. Specifically the bag holding the pie he had bought. It rolled off the table and splattered on the floor. It wasn’t salvageable. Dean was miserable for the rest of the night and made sure that his mood spread out to both Sam and Castiel. It was unpleasant, but it did provide him with he solution he was looking for. He would make Dean a pie. 

Pie making was more complex than he had anticipated. He had started by doing some online research. This had resulted in Dean mocking Sam for watching Martha Stewart videos. Sam had denied it and eventually their eyes turned to Castiel. 

“I find her hair intriguing.” 

It wasn’t a lie, exactly. He did find the woman’s hair intriguing. But he wasn’t watching her videos because of that. After that he found out about ‘incognito mode’. He was able to do more research without any fear of discovery or mockery.

When he felt he had done enough research he decided he needed to actually try making a pie. He waited until both Sam and Dean were out of the bunker. He gathered his supplies and started making a pie. He was feeling very proud of himself when the explosion happened. It occurred sometime after he added the wet ingredients to the dry ones but before he mixed it into a solid dough. The recipe had promised a firm ball of dough. Not an angel standing in a kitchen covered in bits of pastry.

That is when Sam and Dean walked in. 

Both of them stared at him without saying anything before their eyes slowly took in the rest of the kitchen. Sam seemed to recover faster than Dean. While his brother was still staring wide eyed at the bit of egg yolk dripping from the lighting fixture Castiel hadn’t incorporated properly, Sam snatched up the recipe that Castiel had left on the table. He stuffed it into his back pocket and continued to look around.

“Da fuck happened in here?” Dean whistled.

“Cas, we have a room set aside for spells,” Sam jumped in. “You should practice in there. Not,” he gestured around the kitchen, “where we make our food.”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said. “I didn’t think this was going to happen.”

“Well,” Dean laughed. “You made the mess, you get to clean it.”

Sam approached Castiel the next day with a piece of paper in his hand. Castiel thought he was returning the recipe he had hidden the day before. It wasn’t his recipe. It had an address on it.

“You probably need more guidance than the internet can give you,” Sam said. “I won’t say anything to Dean, but these people could probably help you.”

“Help? How?”

“For starters they might be able to help you not blow up the kitchen.”

Sam had enrolled him in a baking class. It was a bit more advanced than his skill level, but they were learning to make pies, and that’s what was important. He arrived early, selected a station and waited. Then he listened carefully to everything the woman running the class had to say. He read the recipe over twice before he even collected the ingredients. He read the recipe again to make sure. Then he followed along as the teacher led them through making the pastry for the curst. 

“And now your dough should be slightly firm but have a little give to it when you push on it.”

This is not what Castiel’s dough looked like. It was a ball like everyone else’s. It was also hard as a rock. He frowned down at it. This isn’t what the recipe or the teacher promised. It was, at least, not explosive. 

“You look like you’re struggling there dear.”

Castiel turned to face the speaker. There was an old woman standing near his table looking at his baking attempt. She was cautiously poking his failed attempt with one bony finger. Her white hair was swept away from her face in bun. 

“I don’t know what I did wrong.”

“Let’s start again and find out. I used to make pies all the time. I’m sure we can figure this out.”

“I think the teacher might object.”

“She’s my grand-niece. She’ll just be happy I’m talking to someone. Now let’s start this over again.”

For the rest of the class, and for an hour afterward, the woman helped Castiel with his pie. He learned a lot from and about her. Her name was Helen and her husband had loved pies. She made one a week for him every week of their marriage. All 62 years of it. Her husband, Harold, would have had her make one every day, but she didn’t want to have to buy him new pants every month. So Harold got one pie a week. 

All of her experience came to the forefront for Castiel. She guided him through the steps of the recipe and explained why everything had to happen in the order it did. What things should look like and what they should feel like. By the end of the his first lesson, which lasted longer than anyone else’s, Castiel had something that vaguely resembled a pie. It tasted nothing like a pie. 

Helen politely spat the small taste of pie she’d taken into a napkin. “You have a talent dear, we all do. Yours may not be pie making.”

“I want to be better at this.”

“Why? You could buy a pie, they’re not as good as a homemade pie.” Castiel appreciated that she didn’t add that a store bought pie would be better than whatever he had just crafted.

“I want it as a gift. For someone special.”

“Ah, you want to impress.” Helen laughed. It was a laugh Castiel quite liked. Though he couldn’t exactly say why. 

“Not to impress. Just to let him know he’s special. That he’s important.”

“I’ll tell you what. Come back next week. The class is making brownies. We’ll make a pie.”

Castiel returned the next week and Helen tried again to teach him how to bake a pie. The result was better and was almost edible. Helen was able to swallow the bite she took. She declined to take more though. 

Week after week Castiel returned to the class. The rest of the people who came walked away with recipes for cookies, breads, brownies and cakes. He walked away with pastries that were gradually becoming edible and less weapons of murder. He was pleased with his progress. He was learning to make a gift and he was making a friend. The teacher, Castiel learned her name was Janice, never bothered them. She left them alone and would only occasionally wander of to see what they were doing. Janice quickly learned to be wary of anything that came from his table. She would always try if Helen asked though and would provide feed back. If he was being honest, Castiel preferred it when Helen explained things. Janice seemed like a good teacher, but he liked Helen.

It finally happened. Weeks of work and Castiel finally produced a pie. A real pie. It looked like a pie. It smelled like a pie. And it even tasted like a pie. Helen was pleased. Janice offered him congratulations. Some of his fellow classmates even clapped for him when it came out of the oven. 

Helen gave him a hug after the taste test. “You’ve done it. A real pie.”

“Thank you. I could not have done it without you.”

Helen laughed the laugh he liked. “I don’t doubt that at all. I saw your first attempt. But you did it.” She leaned in and whispered. “Now do you want a real secret to making a great pie?”

Castiel furrowed his brow. “I thought that’s what you taught me.”

“I taught you had to make a pie. I’m offering to tell you how to make a great pie.”

“Of course.”

“Make it with love. Think of the person you make it for. No matter how many people eat the pie you make, it’s made for only one person. That’s how you make a great pie. It’s why homemade pies are always better.” 

“I’ll add that in next week.”

“Nope, you make that pie at home. You come back next week and tell me how it went over.”

Castiel went home and made the pie. He thought of Dean the entire time he mixed and stirred and rolled. He did everything Helen told him to. A perfect pie emerged from the oven. He set it on the table and waited. Dean and Sam had left to run errands earlier. They’d be back soon and he could gift Dean with a pie. Because he wanted to. No strings attached.

Castiel arrived early at the baking class. He was excited to tell Helen that Dean had loved the pie. That he had begged for another, much like she had described Harold doing to her. He decided that he didn’t want Dean to buy new pants either. So he wasn’t getting a pie every day. He would get one a week.

Janice was sitting on the counter when he walked in. She looked up and sniffled when he came in.

“I didn’t know how to get a hold of you, but I’m glad you came. There’s not going to be a class today.”

Castiel sighed. “Oh. Next week? I want to tell Helen that her teaching paid off. The pie was perfect.”

Janice shook her head. “Great Aunt Helen had a stroke. She didn’t make it.”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said. He wasn’t sure what to say. Helen was old for a human, he knew that, but this was a shock to him.

“Don’t be. I waited to thank you. You helped her a lot Castiel. She wasn’t the same woman after Great Uncle Harold died. She withdrew and I pushed her a lot to come out. She finally relented. I think to shut me up. But then you showed up and she just had to help you.” Janice wiped her eyes. “I’m glad you two met. She laughed about how bad you were in the kitchen and then became so proud that you succeeded. Thanks for being her friend.”

“I liked her laugh.”

“I’m so glad I got to hear it again.”

It took time, but he found her. After all, Heaven is a big place. Her soul looked like her laugh sounded. Helen was still Helen.

“I should have known. No human could possibly have made a pie that bad.” Helen’s soul laughed and pulled Castiel into her home.

“It worked out in the end. He loved the pie you taught me to make. Begged for more.”

“They always do dear. Don’t give in though.”

“I won’t. I promise.” Castiel looked around Helen’s Heaven and liked what he saw. It was mingled with another’s Heaven. Harold’s he guessed, but the other soul  
wasn’t to be seen. Harold was probably off giving Helen her privacy. Castiel liked him.

“There are cherries in the garden. Do you want to learn how to make a cherry pie?”

“I would like that very much.”

The next week Dean ate cherry pie.

The following he had blueberry pie.

The week after he had strawberry and rhubarb pie.

The week after that he had.........


End file.
